Unloading

Bedroom #1 is most nearly finished with the base molding cut and ready to be nailed in place.  Bedroom #2 has a lot of stuff in it including a treadle sewing machine, three book cases and many heaps and piles of unconsidered schmutter.   I now must consider and unload the schmutter.
 Last week I sorted the knitting books.  3/4 of my knitting library went over to my office and was offered to a friend whose house burnt in the fires west of Fort Collins.  Her entire knitting stash was consumed, yarn, needles, books, finished things, memories and all.
 It's kind of the same and kind of opposite of a death. In death the person goes and everything they had remains and must be dealt with.  In losing a house the people remain and all the things vanish, poof.
You can say that the people are the important thing, and it is true things can be replaced.  All the same I think that we tend to dismiss the extent of their loss.  Every thing familiar is gone. All the patterns and habits that anchor us to our lives are in the things we touch and use daily.  And it is gone.
I can't begin to fathom what that must be like.  What I can do is offer some of what I have.  Needles, books and yarn.  The beginnings of a new start and a fresh understanding of  fiber craft and its anchors.
I am unloading from my abundance and offering it up to those who may need it much more than I.  It is a relief.  I am glad to lighten that load.